Chapter 12

The soldiers here had been summoned by the Spanish colonial authorities for the specific purpose of striking the English colony. They were not special elite troops, but compared to the civilians from London, they were an overwhelming force. And their strength came from a wealth of practical combat experience.

They had fought against tens of thousands of ‘Indios’ while outnumbered. They had watched their comrades die from strange poisonous plants and insects. They had witnessed all manner of bizarre beasts roaming the skies and plains. Their courage was not to be underestimated. No, if one were to search for the people most accustomed to the feeling of ‘unfamiliarity’ in this world, it would be these soldiers of Spain. After all, they were men who had left their beloved homelands behind to step into a completely new world.

And when they came face to face with that bizarre monster, there was only one thing they could say.

“Dios mío[1]

…”

CRASH!

And just like that, another one of them, caught in a stupor, died.

WROOOOOOOOOOM!

The sons of Spain, who had been hastily climbing over the iron fence, froze at the roar of the madly charging monster. A terrible metallic sound licked at their ears. The unpleasant smell of petroleum, sharp enough to cause a headache, paralyzed their sense of smell.

“Gyaaaaaaak!”

“S-save me…”

“A monster, a monster…!”

It, that beast of yellow steel, was mercilessly crushing their comrades. It seemed to savor the sweet taste of slaughter, its massive body twisting and turning at an impossible speed.

Rumble. CRUNCH.

In an instant, they had lost their commander, the governor. In an instant, several of their comrades who had been at the forefront were turned into chunks of meat.

“Ha. Wh…at is that thing?”

Someone let out a hollow laugh, and then his neck snapped. The monster’s single arm, rotating at high speed, had struck him in the head. A body made of yellow metal, strange wheels that looked like they were fitted with belts, and a single, massive arm hanging menacingly from its head.

All of it was painted with the blood of their allies.

Was this what the Behemoth[2] of the Bible looked like? Was this a creation meticulously crafted by Satan himself?

CRUNCH.

The arm of a soldier, standing there, was accidentally caught in the monster’s joint. Terrified, the soldier struggled, but the monster emotionlessly lifted its arm and…

“KYAAAAAAAK!”

CRUNCH.

…crushed the limb.

And then…

“G-get your guns!”

“Uh… uhh?”

“They’re firing from the front!”

BANG-BANG-BANG!

The pathetic militia once again unleashed a volley upon them.

***

Mr. Choi, I’m sorry.

“Aaaargh! The Governor has been sent flying!”

“E-everyone, get out of the way! Run!”

“Mierda[3]! How in the hell!”

Today, the excavator you borrowed will become a machine of slaughter.

A horse can run at a speed of about 60 kilometers per hour. A human, at a full sprint, averages about 20 kilometers per hour. And this excavator can reach speeds of up to 37.5 kilometers per hour. Of course, it will break down if I keep running it like this… but what does it matter? It will be repaired.

Just a moment ago, when I plowed through them, the man they called the Governor was thrown far away, and the soldiers crushed beneath him were…

“Geuk! Guuuuuaaaaaaaaak!”

…’pulverized’.

Urp. I won’t be able to eat meat for a few days.

I barely suppressed the urge to vomit. Forcing myself to look away from the horrific sight of mangled flesh, bone, and organs, I charged toward the other soldiers before me.

“Heek! D-don’t come here! You monster!”

“You idiot! Just shoot! Shoot him!”

BANG! BANG-BANG-BANG!

The Spanish soldiers who had climbed over the fence didn’t dare touch anyone else; they just fired their bullets at me. It was a commendable attempt, a show of excellent military discipline, to try and counterattack in this situation.

Ping. Papapap. Ping.

But it was a failure.

Why? Did they think I would concoct a crazy plan to charge into the middle of the enemy with an excavator without taking any precautions? Of course, I had wrapped the entire cockpit in polycarbonate panels. Unless they got incredibly lucky, those lead balls would never hit m—

WHIZ!

“…”

W-what was that? It just grazed me.

Damn it. The impact from the earlier collision had started to loosen the PC panel I had fixed in place. A lead ball must have flown through the gap.

THWACK!

“Kuaaargh!”

CRACK!

“Kieeeeeeek!”

As I freely ran over and trampled people, I glanced at my arm. Blood was flowing from where the bullet had grazed it, hot and stinging. Damn it. If I had known this would happen, I never would have made such a reckless plan.

Suddenly, my life was on the line. These rotten Spaniards, they dare to threaten me?

There is no more guilt. I will hit, trample, and kill to my heart’s content—

Clunk. CLUNK.

“…Urp.”

The nauseating smell of blood assaulted me from all sides. While the Spanish were in chaos, our allies fell back and unleashed another volley, felling more of the enemy. But we were also running out of gunpowder. While our allies, now armed with pitchforks and spears, stood on guard from a distance…

…it was my turn.

“Get that thing! There’s a person riding it! It’s not a Behemoth or some mythical monster, just a complicated machine!”

“D-damn it, Lord. Oh, Lord…!”

“Get a grip! If we kill that rider and take the machine, we win!”

Son of a bitch. How can they regain their composure in a situation like this?

At the shout of what appeared to be a lieutenant, the Spanish forces, having reformed their ranks, began firing at me. The PC panels deflected most of the shots, but the impacts were severe.

“Everyone, draw your swords and charge! It’s not that fast, so if you just dodge, you can survive!”

“WRAAAAAAGH!”

“Destroy the heretics’ sorcery! Kill that Indio bastard riding it!”

And just that small amount of impact was enough for the Spanish forces to regain their morale. They were, after all, a strong and well-trained army, capable of recovering even after their governor was run over and their comrades were turned into pulp by a strange monster. I was amazed by their discipline.

I slammed on the accelerator, trying to pick up speed, but as the enemy commander had said, there was a limit to the excavator’s speed. Now that they had snapped out of their panic, attacking them became difficult.

This is… not good…!

This entire operation was designed based on the fear that pre-modern people would have of an unfamiliar machine. If the enemy has overcome that fear, the fundamental premise of the operation is broken.

Even if I’ve killed a lot of them, there are still so damn many! Seeing my allies fall back, they must be out of gunpowder. If I fall here, the poorly equipped militia will have to face the heavily armored Spanish forces head-on. There’s no chance of victory then.

I have to drive the enemy into a corner, somehow…!

THUD.

…Huh?

CRASH! CRASH! CRASH!

Hah. This is insane.

“G-get on! Everyone, get on and kill the rider!”

The Spanish soldiers, clad in plate armor, charged madly and began to jump onto my excavator. Some were hit and killed, some were crushed beneath it, but they didn’t give up. Their eyes were bloodshot as they started to cling to the outside of the excavator.

“Uuuuugh! You heretic devil! How dare you… uuuuaaaaargh!”

WHIIIIIIRRR!

Whoa! I almost died! A guy was trying to open the door, so I barely managed to saw off his arm with the chainsaw! I quickly locked the door and grabbed the controls again, but… huh?

CRUNCH!

“Don’t aim for the sturdy glass! Break the hinges!”

Hah.

Right. This is what the conquistadors from the textbooks are like.

They fight dirty.

BANG! TH-THUMP! BANG!

The Spaniards clinging to the front and side windows began to frantically shove their steel swords into the gaps between the PC panels and the silicone and nails I had used to secure them. In the process, a few more soldiers were thrown from the vehicle, and some had their heads crushed under the tracks, but the remaining men, their eyes bloodshot, didn’t seem to care as they focused on their task.

BANG! BANG! TH-THUMP!

I wrenched the steering wheel wildly, turning so sharply that the excavator nearly tipped over, trying to shake them off. But the more I did, the more Spaniards clung to the chassis. There must have been about ten of them stuck to it now like insects. I couldn’t see anything through the front win—

Oh.

Damn it.

CRASH!

I collided directly with the iron fence.

And that wasn’t the problem.

TH-THUMP!

At the same moment the excavator hit the fence, a soldier’s sword tore through the PC panel and pierced the gap.

My body, following the law of inertia, was naturally thrown forward.

Two events, by a chance coincidence, happened at the same time. The result was…

…

…I saw the hilt of a sword protruding from my chest.

A torrent of red poured out, so much that I wondered if a human body could even hold that much blood. Every time I staggered, the blade shifted, tearing up my insides. It was excruciatingly painful. It felt as if… the center of my chest was being seared with a branding iron.

I barely managed to lift my eyes and saw that the soldier who had stabbed me was already half-crushed between the fence and the excavator. He would not live long.

‘O, thou who shalt be immortal across the ages, a new world now calls to you.’

I… uh…

Damn it.

‘Immortal.’

My consciousness was fading. The smell of oil hit my nose. For some reason, the opening lines of Immortal Order echoed in my ears. Yeah. Stop with that damn ‘Immortal’ talk. It’s all over…

‘There is no end.’

…Huh?

‘For you, an end does not exist.’

I unconsciously looked down.

The blood…

‘Immortal.’

…is stopping.

***

“…”

“…”

The cacophony of metal and screams that had filled the air just moments before was replaced by a silence as heavy as lead. The yellow monster, that terrible machine of death, had finally stopped.

Dozens had died or been injured to finally stop it. And yet, dozens still survived.

“Kh, khah, keuk…”

“T-the Governor is alive!”

“Governor, sir! Are you all right?”

“D-don’t touch me. I think my ribs are broken.”

“…”

“…”

“Th-that monster…?”

At Vicente’s question, the soldiers all pointed in one direction. The sight of the ‘monster,’ now a wrecked heap against the iron fence, came into the governor’s view. Smoke rose from its side.

Seeing this, a look of relief spread across Vicente’s face, despite the agony twisting his body.

Only.

“…”

“…”

Only the natives and the English could not smile.

Slowly, the Spaniards approached them, their chests and backs covered in Toledo steel, with fine swords and shields in hand. Now was the time to enjoy the pleasures of slaughter and plunder as victors. The time had come to hunt easy prey instead of being hunted.

The settlers and natives slowly backed away. Some collapsed, their legs giving out from under them. They were desperately searching for the monster’s rider in the smoke.

“P-please, Sir Angel…”

But there was no angel here. Now, there were only the slaughterers and the slaughtered.

The arrows fired by Manteo and the other natives bounced off the Spaniards’ breastplates and shields as if they were nothing. One or two fell, but that was all. If anything, their laughter only grew louder. The reason they were shooting arrows instead of guns? It must be because they were out of gunpowder.

Now was the time for pure hand-to-hand combat. A time for the steel-clad veteran Spanish forces to dance with a mere militia and a group of savages.

It was with this thought, his mouth watering, that he took a step forward.

BOOM!

At the sudden roar, everyone’s gaze snapped back toward the monster. The rider, gasping for breath, was walking out of the ash and smoke.

With a sword embedded in his chest.

“…”

“…”

“…”

Everyone was transfixed by the sight. What kind of superhuman willpower must it take to stand so tall and walk with a sword protruding from one’s chest?

“Hyaaaaaah!”

But the Spaniards were not ones to stand by and watch. A man who had just lost a comrade to him charged forward, swinging his sword. The man, as if he had no strength left, or perhaps no interest at all, simply blocked the sword with his arm, and…

SLICE.

…his arm was cleanly severed. The English women screamed, and the natives trembled in fear.

And.

And then…

“For he was not made a priest according to a legal requirement concerning bodily descent, but by the power of an indestructible life.”

As everyone’s eyes were fixed on the man, one of the Spanish soldiers began to mutter a verse from the Bible.

“…For it is witnessed of him, ‘You are a priest forever, after the order of Melchizedek[4].’”

Hebrews 7, verses 16 through 17.

The man looked at his own severed arm.

He lifted the stump… for all to see.

To see the severed bone, muscle, and blood vessels grow back.